Clancy of the Overflow
Words by Banjo Patterson/ Music by Tony Latimer SOCAN
(Recorded by Tom Lewis on Demand Performance)
I had written him a letter which I
had, for want of better
Knowledge, sent to where I met him down the Lachlan, years
ago,
He was shearing when I knew him, so I sent the letter to him,
Just ‘on spec’, addressed as follows, ‘Clancy, of The
Overflow’.
And an answer came directed in a writing unexpected,
(And I think the same was written with a thumb-nail dipped in
tar)
'Twas his shearing mates who wrote it, and verbatim I will
quote it:
‘Clancy's gone to Queensland droving, and we don't know where
he are.’
In my wild erratic fancy visions come to me of Clancy,
Gone a-droving ‘down the Cooper’ where the Western drovers go.
As the stock are slowly stringing, Clancy rides behind them
singing,
For the drover's life has pleasures that the townsfolk never
know.
And the bush has friends to meet him, and their kindly voices
greet him
In the murmur of the breezes and the river on its bars,
And he sees the vision splendid of the sunlit plains extended,
And at night the wond'rous glory of the everlasting stars.
I am sitting in my dingy little office, where a stingy
Ray of sunlight struggles feebly down between the houses tall,
And the foetid air and gritty of the dusty, dirty city
Through the open window floating, spreads its foulness over
all.
And in place of lowing cattle, I can hear the fiendish rattle
Of the tramways and the 'buses making hurry down the street,
And the language uninviting of the gutter children fighting,
Comes faintly and fitfully through the ceaseless tramp of
feet.
And the hurrying people daunt me, their pallid faces haunt me,
As they shoulder one another in their rush, and their nervous
haste,
With their eager eyes and greedy, their stunted forms and
weedy,
For townsfolk have no time to grow, they have no time to
waste.
And I somehow rather fancy I'd like to change with Clancy,
To take my turn at droving where the seasons come and go.
While he faced the round eternal of the cash-book and the
journal ...
But I doubt he'd suit the office, 'Clancy of The Overflow’.
In my wild erratic fancy visions come to me of Clancy,
Gone a-droving ‘down the Cooper’ where the Western drovers go.
As the stock are slowly stringing, Clancy rides behind them
singing,
For the drover's life has pleasures that the townsfolk never
know.
